Happy Birthday
by 2DaughtersOfAthena
Summary: It's Hermione's 21st birthday, which means an equally special birthday party. AU, magical. Oneshot.


**A new addition for the competition. Hermione's very happy birthday. Definitely AU, and was great fun (but tricky) to write.**

 **Teeny bits and pieces from this are taken from the chaos of my brothers 18th Birthday party. If ever there was a story to tell, it will always be that one for me.**

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Category: Themed (Rejection)**

 **Prompt: "Happy Birthday"**

 **Words: 2839**

 **0-0-0-0**

 **Hermione**

"Hey, are you doing anything for your birthday? It's a big one," Fred asks, handing over my potion ingredients in a collection of small paper bags and coloured vials, accepting my change. He slides the several silver sickles into the slots beneath the counter, pausing for just a moment to talk. The store is packed, but I hang back, for the moment. Mr Impatient behind me tuts loudly. Classic annoying Brit in a shop.

"Nothing so far," I reply, stuffing the small vials carefully into my knapsack. "I don't usually do anything. Not my thing really, birthdays." Fred raises an eyebrow, which makes me laugh.

"Why not?" He pretends to rearrange the money.

"Never had the people to hang around with. Anyway, I'll see you later Fred." I tap the desk in goodbye, and stumble uneasily down the stairs and out of the shop. Once outside, I apparate back to my house, and sincerely hope for the best that the conversation I just had was not a hint at a horrible surprise party.

 **Fred**

"Bye," I mutter, feeling already annoyed at the day for no damn good reason. And now comes the fifth grumpy customer of the day, wanting to move on with his day without regard to mine. _Great_. "Hi there, having a good day?" I enquire, putting on my best face all of the faces, and the brightest Weasley-twin grin.

"It's fine," he answers, pulling several galleons from a smart pair of trousers. Is he grumpy because our masterfully magical shop is absolutely awesome?

"Is this everything you were looking for today?"

"Yep. Just want to go now, thanks."

I raise an eyebrow at him, instantly more annoyed. Paper bag packed, everything inside, he leaves quickly, causing me to never forget his face and definitely prank his child whenever they're about. As another person steps up to the till, I spot George flying past on a pair of rollerblades, pointing me out. Apparently, he wants a chat.

"Verity! Can you take over?" I shout across the store. She seems to appear out of nowhere.

"Of course, Mr Weasley."

Verity smiles at me, honestly looking like she might hug me and I quickly move away. Can't get in the middle of that sort of thing. On my treacherous path to a rollerblading George, I dodge six families, and direct them elsewhere in the store.

"So?" He asks, holding himself up against a towering block of Fizzing Whizzbees.

"She doesn't know," I grin, feeling better immediately. "We're golden."

The pair of us continue to wear rollerblades throughout the rest of the day, and thoroughly enjoy it.

Three days later, we're packed into a village hall, the red-headed gang, charming streaming strands of glitter and silk, right across the very middle of the room. Percy makes patterns out of paper, while Bill and Charlie project lights onto the walls.

"What's the game plan then Freddie?" George asks, sending a violent stream of purple over a far-too-small table. "Pepper-up potion in all of the drinks? Jelly-leg Juice? Or something a bit more radical?"

"What?"

"Pranks, Forge, pranks!" he hisses, grinning at me while I send several glasses dancing their way into a monumental figure of a T-Rex doing the Charleston. "Or maybe you were hoping for something small? Low-key, off-chance. Come on, this is a great party to pull out all the stocks!"

"I'm not sure, Gred."

"Freddie, don't go soft on me now!" George protests, laughing. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Actually, Georgie, I do." We grin, like the Cheshire-cat twins we are. For tomorrow is the big day.

 **Hermione**

Happy Birthday to me. Roll on September, for the wonderful Autumnal days. And someone is knocking on my door, at this completely ridiculous hour. I stumble out of bed, don't bother getting a dressing gown, and trudge heavily towards the door. Bloody postman coming too early, probably.

"Ron! What are you doing here?" I shriek, scrabbling around my clothing for something more than the scrap of it I seem to be wearing. Suddenly sober of tiredness, I grab a trench coat from the hat stand, and don it quickly. "It's so early."

"Sorry, just wanted to wish you Happy Birthday. In case you thought I didn't care, or something like that," he replies, grinning from between his smattering of freckles and bright red hair. He looks good, actually. Friendly. Tired, but clean-shaven and apparently showered. "I know you don't like birthdays, but maybe we can meet up later?"

"Um, yeah, okay. Where and when?" I blink away the tiredness from my eyes, which is slowly creeping back in. I hadn't figured out whether I wanted to spend the day by myself, so I guess this solves that problem.

"Village hall, seven-thirty in the evening."

"Very precise," I comment. Ron laughs. "See you later then," I push, and subsequently push him out so I can get back to bed. Considering my duvet is actually calling my name, it would be ridiculous to ignore it. He who dares ignore the duvet is a plank.

Thus, I sink back into the dream world, fully expecting a not-so-surprise party later on. Damn you, Ron, for being so obvious.

 **Fred**

"And you had to tell her at six o'clock this morning, why?" Ginny shouts, laughing at Ron so hard that she stumbles down the last few stairs in the Burrow. I can't help but grin too. George is busy stowing things into his pockets for later, catching my eyes briefly. It's nothing for me to feel bad about, because these pranks are for her benefit only.

 **Hermione**

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" the crowd shrieks uproariously, predictably, as the doors of the village hall doors bang open in my clumsiness. It's a full-on wall of noise, accompanied by the resounding vibrations from just two dozen people cheering as I stare blankly, trying to smile, back at them. They're all laughing, which makes me a little bit more relieved. I smile sheepishly back at them, as Ginny breaks through from the throng, leaping towards me with a hug at the ready.

Damn you, Ron.

I take the bet that everyone has had several rounds of firewhiskey already and head to the bathroom to change. Maybe they won't notice my change from drab to dressy.

Little black dress dragged out from my bag, stripped down in the middle of the bathroom, when the door bangs open and Fred Weasley walks in, immediately shouting out and covering his eyes. Jesus Christ, these Weasleys have absolutely no sense of boundaries.

"Fred! Out, now!" I shout, kicking out with my bare feet and dress halfway over my chest. He waddles backwards, laughing at himself and mocking a limp from my poor kick. The dress is over the rest of me as he stands up straight, beginning to peak through between his freckled fingers. "Hey, stop looking!" He laughs again, holding his hands up in surrender as I hit him hard on the arm.

"Sorry, sorry. I saw you coming in here, looking all mopey and thought I'd better come in here to give you a really shitty pep talk." He pauses, thinking to himself. "Actually, the talk is just me reassuring you that we can get really drunk and no one will blink an eye."

"Sounds like a great idea," I reply instantly.

"Great. Shall we?"

I take his arm, ready to face the music.

The next few hours are chaos.

 **Fred**

Turns out, Hermione is really fun. Not that I doubted it. Well, not massively.

 **Hermione**

"Okay, three, two, one!" I shout, Fred and George by my side, downing the shots of good-old-fashioned tequila, and biting into the three limes set out in front of us. They choke and splutter, but I shout out in ecstasy, already wincing at the sourness of the lime. It's exhilarating. "Another round?"

"Prank time," Fred hollers, brushing his electric arm against my own again. I pull back from him, grinning broadly. "Alright, who's the target, Granger?"

" _Ronald Billius Weasley!"_ I declare loudly. The twins roar in reply.

 **Fred**

Hermione sets it up. Jelly-legs Juice mixed in with his firewhiskey, and given to him by her. It's kind of very weird to watch. A tipsy Hermione stalking up to my brother, placing a hand on his arm and having a good joke with him, before switching out their drinks. It's genius.

 **Hermione**

"Hey, Ron," I say, able to keep the grin off my face with my purest intention of keeping to the game. He grins at me, holding his glass of firewhiskey in a salute to me. "I'm really glad you're here," I continue, placing my arm against his own. The spark is there. Not as strong as I've felt before, but it's definitely there. We catch eyes on it, blue boring into brown. It's like battling a fire within me.

Yet, the prank rules over me.

I set my drink at the side, inviting him to do the same. He does. Good.

"I'm glad to be here, 'Mione. It's a great party." I smile back at him, and agree. "Are you having a good time?"

I position myself in front of the drinks, hiding them from him.

"Yeah, I really am, thank you." I see Fred and George checking their watches, watching me. My time is almost up, but Ron's hand is moving up towards my face, brushing a strand of hair out the way. Suddenly, I am very aware of how attractive he is, and how I've always been attracted to him. But there's no time for that. I turn away from him, acting embarrassed, transfiguring both of our glasses to swap their appearance. I take my drink. "I'll see you later," I murmur, touching his arm lightly again.

Ron doesn't say anything in reply, but instantly gulps largely from his glass.

"How long before it takes effect?" I ask Fred.

"About five minutes. He won't suspect a thing." I grin, and catch myself a little too close to him again. He stabilises himself on my shoulder, his own supply of electricity forcing its way through me.

Fred places an arm around my shoulders, acting candidly. I don't shrug it off, for the purpose of the prank, and we wait the five minutes, with bated breath. Just as I am beginning to check my watch, it happens, and Ron is dancing across the floor, his legs wobbling like jelly and drink spilling from his hands onto the slippery floor. George, Fred, and I clink our glasses, and down them, shouting out at the next change of song. Fred goes to order another round for us, while George and I take several moments to just breathe and laugh our ways through Ron's stupid dancing.

"Having a good birthday?" George asks, leaning against me.

"The best," I tell him, watching Fred balance the drinks. "He looks really silly."

"He always looks silly," laughs George. I smile back at him, as Fred stumbles over to us. "Alright, ready? Three, two, one!" We each down the drinks again, feeling the rush of the alcohol straight to our heads. Fred belches, and George laughs loudly at his brother's antics. I hiccup painfully.

 **Fred**

Crookshanks is drunk.

You might not believe me, but it has happened.

Sirius brought a bucket full of wine, with marinating stakes inside. Of course, Crookshanks took the liberty of eating all of the damn things, and drank through the rest of the tub of alcohol. And now he is mewing loudly, crawling about the floor. Occasionally, he flicks that bottlebrush tail of his, and jumps between one side of the room and the other.

Hermione is in hysterics, obviously.

She's laughing so much that she can barely stand up, although we are all absolutely wasted by this point. Fuzzy hair bobbling, Hermione clutches onto my arm, watching her cat pop from one end of the room to the next, and taking slow, uncalculated steps.

"Oh my God, _Fred_ , this wasn't even planned!" she giggles. But then she grabs my ears, and pulls me down so I can practically see straight into the pupils of her eyes. Her hair is falling into her eyes, and she is just a little bit too close. "Best birthday ever," she tells me.

 **Hermione**

After ridding myself of an electric Fred, I go back to Ron to see whether his legs have returned to normal again. He's twitching, but it isn't so bad.

 **Fred**

Harry is choking. I saved his life. But Ron and Hermione are awfully close in that dingy corner over there.

 **Hermione**

"Are your legs better?" I ask Ron, shifting myself closer to him, and definitely doing it consciously. He nods, looking at least twice as wasted as I am. One of his legs is still twitching, but I don't feel bad about it. My heart is thumping along with the beat of the heavy base in the song playing. It's very odd that the room seems much more crowded and warmer than it did at the beginning of the night. "I'm glad," I tell him.

"Are you having a good night with Fred and George?" Ron comments, laughing a little too easily. "I had no idea you had this side of you."

"I didn't realise you took notice," I remark, shrugging with a grin. He bumps my shoulder, sending a tingling feeling through me.

"Of course, I do."

"I'm going to go and dance." I stand up immediately at the song-change, and turn back to him. "Coming?"

"My legs haven't stop wobbling yet. I'll take a rain-check."

 **Fred**

Dancing. Bloody dancing. Because that's Hermione wants, and it's her birthday. And now we're dancing to some fantastically paced indie pop piece. I don't know what to do, or where to put my hands – if I'm supposed to put them anywhere. She's having a good time, and that's what matters.

It's so hot in here; it feels more crowded every drink I take, and every inch I move closer to her. George is somewhere outside, taking a break with Angelina. I'm not exactly going to interrupt that. Yet, Hermione is just here, and smiling at me like this is the best thing in the world, and I feel the same pull towards her that I have in the past. In my stomach, and in my chest, I'm being drawn towards her. God, it sounds ridiculous.

We're both sweating, and that's okay. She raises her arms above her head, and spins around in a not-so-perfect circle. I catch her from falling into Luna. For a moment, Hermione pauses, but then turns to me and just laughs. She throws her body onto mine, shaking with the laughter.

But then she's slipping away from me.

 **Hermione**

Someone is knocking on the door.

It wakes me up, with the sunlight streaming through the half-closed curtains. I glance beside me, to the red-headed man in the bed beside me, the duvet covering the bottom half of his naked body. He looks tired, and I feel tired too, but is awake, blue eyes latched onto my brown ones.

"I'll get dressed," Ron says helpfully, sitting up in the bed and moving away from me. I nod in agreement, beginning to pull on a loose shirt and shorts before rushing to get to the door.

 **Fred**

I knock again. If she's not here, then where the hell is she?

My head is banging, and I don't remember anything after the dancing. I remember the dancing, and then a big blank space where some memory of the party ending and of Hermione getting home should be. Instead, I woke up in my apartment, with George having left a message about his staying over at Angelina's. Predictable.

The door clicks open.

"Fred? What are you doing here?" she asks, rubbing the redness from her eyes.

At least she doesn't look like shit. And she's _here_.

 **Hermione**

I try to cover myself a little better, having expected something boring like the mailman.

"I came to see if you were home," Fred replies, scratching his head, uncertain. "I just couldn't remember you getting home." He laughs. "I couldn't remember getting home myself."

"Oh," I murmur.

Just then, I hear Ron coming down the stairs, and my whole body feels like it is sinking into the ground, and the very core of the earth. Fred's eyes follow the sounds, looking past me, at Ron.

 **Fred**

Ronald Weasley. My brother. Pulling on a t-shirt, his hair mussed from the night before.

"Fred…" Hermione starts to say something, but appears to completely lose the apology she might have said. Really, she doesn't have anything to apologise for. It's not like there's anything going on between us, not like there ever was. It's stupid for me to feel that annoying tug in my gut that says this is all wrong, and I don't want to see either of them anymore.

"It's okay." I tuck my hands into my pockets, wanting somewhere for them to go. "Happy birthday, Hermione."

I turn and leave.


End file.
